


Blame it on the Alcohol

by SlightlyGhostly



Category: The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Drinking, F/M, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Pre-Relationship, Simon is a dumbass, but also Clary's best friend so he gets a pass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-08 23:19:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18904708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlightlyGhostly/pseuds/SlightlyGhostly
Summary: Clary was definitely not expecting this when she came home after a night of clubbing. Why do these things always seem to happen to her?





	Blame it on the Alcohol

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing and no profits are being made. As lifelesslyndsey said so aptly, not my sandbox, just my sandcastle.  
> Hello, hello! Nice to see you again. In a last-ditch effort to get my inspiration back for The Major’s Army, I have decided to start writing some one-shots for multiple fandoms, but more will be explained at the end. Now, on you go, you beautiful human. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Prompt: You came home too drunk last night to find your own room so you crashed in my bed. Oops.  
> Prompt writer: Unfortunately, this came from a Tumblr post that I saw reblogged onto Pinterest. If anyone has any idea where it came from, please message me so proper recognition can be received!

“Yeah Simon, I got home fine. You watch way too many crime shows. Cabbies aren't all Jack the Ripper, okay?” She said, fumbling with the key to her apartment and trying to keep the phone to her ear at the same time.

“That guy looked majorly sketchy Clary! Did you even ask to see his paperwork?” Simon replied.

“What are you even- no, you know what, I am far too drunk to have this conversation with you right now. I’ll see you on Monday.” Simon sputtered incoherently on the other end for about 10 seconds before he finally conceded and uttered a quick goodbye. Having both hands free, she managed to get her key into the lock properly and open the door. With a huge sigh, she dropped her purse and kicked off her heels, letting her abused feet settle into the soft carpet. She walked (read: stumbled) into the bathroom to start her nightly routine. She was positive she looked awful, which is why she completely ignored the mirror for the whole ten minutes it took brush her teeth, wash her face and painfully extracts her contact lenses. Feeling a little more refreshed, she looked into the mirror and almost laughed out loud at the sight she made. Her skin was blotchy and clumps of not-quite removed mascara dotted the skin around her eyes. Thankfully, she had decided to put her hair up in a bun for the night but she was sure that if she hadn't, that would be a mess too. Ugh.

Stupid Simon. This was all his fault. He had insisted that they go out to celebrate her promotion, but she had just wanted to sleep. She never could say no to his puppy-dog eyes though, mostly because he just looked so funny trying to beg, and they ended up going to one of the various nightclubs in New York City called Pandemonium. Clary loved nightclubs; she loved the music, the dancing and the very strange array of people you were likely to see there. Simon did not share her intrigue and always seemed to get lost or find himself in the strangest of situations. Tonight, for example, he had knocked into a girl while dancing (read: awkwardly two-stepping) who was there with her super muscular, biker boyfriend. Said biker boyfriend then tried to start a fight with Simon who just squeaked then cowered behind Clary. Needless to say, Mr. Biker Boyfriend was pissed because Simon was trying to hide, Clary was pissed because he threw her into the line of fire, and the girl was pissed because she had spilled her drink. The situation was finally resolved when Clary apologized for Simon’s clumsy tendencies and bought the girl another drink. She rolled her eyes at herself in the mirror then grabbed her phone that was sitting on the bathroom counter. It was nearly 2:30 a.m., and while this certainly wasn't the latest she had even been up, it felt like she hadn't slept all week. After preparing a glass of water and grabbing the bottle of ibuprofen from her kitchen, she made her way to the bedroom. She walked into the bedroom and nearly dropped both things immediately upon entry. She stood there for a minute staring with her jaw unhinged and wondering what to do about her current situation. Her current state of drunkenness was perfectly reflected by the first thoughts that came through her head: _thank god I cleaned yesterday_ and _shit, I am totally not company ready_. Laying face down on her perfectly made bed was a half-naked man, whose shirt, or at least she assumed it was his shirt, was dropped carelessly on the ground at her feet. Unconsciously, she found herself licking her lips as she surveyed his very nicely toned back. Suddenly, as if her brain had suddenly caught up to the situation at hand, she let out a small eep and spun around. Squeezing her eyes shut, she counted to ten then turned around again, and proceeded to blink uncomprehendingly when the man was still there. After what was most likely a good few minutes of this, she threw her head back and groaned. Why did shit like this always happen to her? With a resigned sigh, she placed the water and pills on the bedside table.

“Um, sir?” She whispered, then felt like an idiot. There was a man she had never met, passed out on her bed without her permission and she was trying to be polite about how she woke him up? “Excuse me?” She said louder then sighed again when no response was given. Distantly, she wondered if she should be scared of this man, but she dismissed that idea entirely. If he wanted to kill her, surely there were easier ways to do it. “Hello?” She said, then reached a slow hand out to tap his shoulder. Suddenly she found herself pinned to her bed, gold eyes glaring from their spot above her. She blinked up at him, then let her head fall back with a sigh.

“What the fuck?” He said, turning his head to take in the room.

“My thoughts exactly, friend.” Personally, Clary just wished he would leave so she could sleep, but rationally knew she should probably try to get some answers.

“I…” He squinted at her then groaned and fell to the side with one arm still draped across her stomach. Clary sighed then rolled over to grab him a pill and the glass of water. Obviously, this guy had an even rougher night then she had. Silently, she offered them to him and he took them with a grateful look. “I’m really sorry about this.” He grumbled from his new spot leaning against her headboard. Clary, on the other hand, had not moved except to grab the medicine, and was still lying where he had pinned her.

“Bad night?” She questioned.

“You could say that.” He chuckled.

“I’m Jace, by the way. Jace Herondale.” Clary’s eyebrows shot up.

“Seriously?” She said, looking up at him.

“I’m… pretty sure. Why?”

“We have a mutual acquaintance. My best friend is dating your sister.” Jace seemed to chew on this for a minute before lighting up.

“Ratface! Right. That would make you…” He paused, trying to remember the name he had heard mentioned a few times when he was pretending to listen to Isabelle and her hour-long rants. “Clarissa.” Clary wrinkled her nose.

“Call me Clary. My mom named me and my brother after some of her favorite books. She loved the classics.”

“I like it, it’s original. I mean, how many Jonathans do you know?” He grimaced, and Clary shrugged.

“That's my brother’s name.” \

“Exactly,” he said. “It's everyone’s brother’s name.” She nodded, acquiescing. They sat in silence for a minute.

“How did you even get in here?” She asked finally, raising up on one elbow to look him in the eye. It occurred to her that this should have been one of her first questions for the stranger in her bed. Oh god, if Luke eve found out about this, she was going to get the _worst_ lecture. 

“It’s… kind of a long story.” Jace looked sheepish.

“Well, I’m not going anywhere.” She giggled.

“You're drunk, aren't you?” He grinned at her.

“Don't be so judgemental. I was the one who found you passed out on my bed, not the other way around.” Jace nodded.

“Point made.”

“Now stop stalling.” He sighed.

“Fine. My girlfriend lives in apartment 308, and I was supposed to come to see her tonight, but some of my friends invited me to go have a couple of drinks, and it's been ages since we had all gotten together, so I told Kaeile-” Clary gasped.

“Whitewillow?” When he nodded, Clary had a feeling she knows where this was going, but kept silent and let Jace continue.

“I told her that I would make sure to be around at about 11 or 12. After having a few too many drinks, I took a taxi over and used my key to get in. Thinking she was asleep, I was just going to climb into bed with her and crash for the night, but that plan was dashed as soon as I got close enough to hear what was going on in her bedroom.”

“Slimy bitch was cheating on you, huh.” Clary clamped her hand to her mouth looking up a Jace and trying to convey how much she had not meant to say that. Fortunately, Jace just stared at her bewildered, which made Clary laugh, which meant her drunk ass spent the next ten minutes in full-blown hysteria. Eventually, she calmed down and Jace nodded, the confusion turned to amusement.

“Yeah.”

“Not to hurt your feelings or anything, but she's got a new boy toy almost every week. How long did you say you’d been dating her?” Clary watched in silent horror as Jace’s eyes suddenly started twitching.

“About two years.” Clary felt like she was going to throw up.

“Oh my god, Jace, I’m so sorry-”

“Don’t worry about it. You weren't the one who decided to repetitively cheat on me... For years.” He cleared his throat. “I guess I should get going. I’m sure I’ve overstayed my welcome.” He started to get up.

"Wait no!” Clary said. “Um… Look, just spend the night here. I’ll call you a cab in the morning.”

“You sure?” Jace asked, his eyebrow raised. Clary nodded, then gave a sigh of relief when he settled back into the pillows on her bed. She felt awful about that little slip of the tongue but was glad he knew the truth at least.

“Now,” He said. “Come over here, Red.” She raised an eyebrow, Simon's paranoid voice finding it's way into her head, trying to suggest that he was going to stab her now. After a bit of internal battling, Clary decided that if he were going to kill her, he would have done it already and scooted her sore body over to his side of the bed and leaned next to him. Suddenly, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into a hug.

“Thank you.” He muttered.

“For what?” She said, taking a deep breath and trying to convince herself that she was not attracted to his smell one bit.

“For not kicking me out. And saving me from my brother.” He chuckled. “He and his boyfriend Magnus had the apartment tonight and I was not looking forward to walking into that situation.” She giggled, trying to imagine Jace accidentally walking in on some hardcore butt sex. She could tell he was on the same thought pattern because he shivered violently and shook his head. After a few moments of silence, he graoned. "Oh god, I'm going to have to tell Isabelle. She's going to be so smug. She never liked Kaelie."

“Well, my door is open whenever you need to avoid your siblings. By the way,” She pulled back to look him in the eye. “You never explained how you actually got into the apartment.”

He grinned at her. “You left your door unlocked.” She blinked. Oops. She had promised Simon and Luke that she would be careful about that, but she honestly wasn't surprised.

“So you just wandered the halls checking all the doors for one that would open?”

“No, not really. Your apartment is right across from hers. I knew she was going to come after me, and I really did not want to talk with her right then, so drunk me thought it would be a great idea to hide in here until she gave up. I was going to leave, but obviously, that didn't happen. I’m really sorry about that by the way.”

“I guess you're just lucky I wasn’t sober enough to think rationally and pull a baseball bat on you.” She said, struggling with the blankets.

“I guess so.” he chuckled, then lifted both of them up in an impressive maneuver so she could pull the comforter out from under them. Then, with a squeak from Clary, he picked her up off him and laid her back down before going to walk away.

“And where do you think you're going?” She asked.

“To the couch.” He replied bluntly.

“But Jace,” she whined, “I wanted to snuggle.” She could hear his chuckle from the living room.

“Go to bed Clary. You’re drunk.” She pouted, then realized that he was right and she did need to go to bed, but she was on a mission and she would not fail. So, with a determined huff, she stood and stomped into the living room where Jace had already made himself comfortable on the couch with a blanket and pillow. She stood there arms crossed, glaring at him, and he laid on the couch with a grin and his arms behind his head.

“I am your host dammit, and if I want to snuggle, then you should listen to me.” Jace was full out laughing at this point.

“I’m pretty sure that's not how it works, Red.” He continued to laugh.

“Fine, I guess you’ll just have to make yourself coffee in the morning.” She said triumphantly.

“Okay sweetheart, I will.” He said, laughing still.

“Stupid, blond, snuggle-hating bastard.” She grumbled, admitting defeat and returning to the bedroom. When she woke the next morning, she found a new glass of water by her bedside, along with a pancake breakfast, coffee, and a note.

_Clary,_

_We’ll snuggle next time,_

_I promise._

_(646) 929-5263_

_Jace_


End file.
